


hold a mirror up to nature

by leiascully



Series: A Thousand And One Nights [7]
Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 22:16:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's strange to see yourselves the way that others see you.  Matt and Alex realize they've been kissing a bit too convincingly on screen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hold a mirror up to nature

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: We all know I don't do research by now. Possibly totally unfeasible. Set on the finale air date of Season 7.  
> A/N: They should really stop kissing like that if they don't want me to think that they don't practice off set.  
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction that bears no resemblance to and claims no knowledge of the people about whom it is written.

Alex is always glad to have work, of course, but she misses Matt more and more desperately. It's a rare moment of bliss when their schedules align. She's looking forward to making the most of it. They're both still busy for most of the day, even though it's Saturday, but they text back and forth, making plans. 

_Dinner tonight? xx_ she suggests.

 _Love it xx_ he replies.

 _Oh, but it's finale day_ she reminds him. _You'll be mobbed._

 _You too_ he says. _You're absolutely recognizable, dear._

 _Takeaway?_ she texts.

 _Thai? xx_ he texts back.

 _Perfect xx_ she says.

She picks up the food and heads to his flat after her appointments. It always feels special, going over to his place, even after all this time. He opens the door and folds her into his arms, burying his face in her hair, and god, he feels just like home.

"Patience is a virtue," she tells him. "You don't want to be all over curry, do you?"

"No," he says in a low voice. "I want to be all over you." 

"Well," she says, setting the food down on the table. "I suppose it's time to see whether you're all mouth and no trousers."

"That is _exactly_ what I am," he says, and then he's kissing her. She leans back against his table, her arms winding around his neck. He presses against her and she presses back. She loves kissing him. She could do it forever, probably. He always kisses as if he's pouring his whole self into it, every bit of his attention focused on her, and at the same time he's drinking her in, his thirst for her never quenched. Her body blooms at his touch, as if her every cell is responding to his lips. 

She can't help herself: she's tugging at his shirt, desperate for his skin against hers. The only good thing about spending so much time apart is that they never lose that spark. He's just as eager as she is, helping her out of her blouse. They both groan in relief when their bare chests make contact. He leans forward to kiss her again. His hands cup her breasts and his thumbs flick across her nipples. She has to hold onto his belt loops to keep herself steady. 

"I think the food can wait," he murmurs, running his hands down her sides. 

"Agreed," she breathes. "But I'm not sure this table's quite the right height."

"Couch," he says, unbuttoning her jeans. She pushes him with her hips, feeling the familiar and very welcome bulge of him against her pelvis. He walks backwards, lithe and confident, as much of him touching as much of her as possible. He's so startlingly graceful when they're naked together, as if he forgets to be clumsy because all of his attention is on her. He pulls her down on top of him on the couch and finally they're pressed together from head to toe. Alex revels in it. Matt pushes at the waist of her jeans and she stands up and wriggles out of them. He watches her, his eyes dark with desire. She strips off her knickers slowly, dropping them to the floor. 

"Hardly fair," she says. "You're still half-dressed."

"You're welcome to change that," he tells her, raising one eyebrow in an unbearably sexy way. She smirks at him, but he pulls her down for a few more of those glancing kisses. She's breathless afterwards, with barely enough presence of mind to nuzzle her way down his chest until she's kneeling over him, undoing the button of his jeans. She pulls them down his legs, dragging his underwear with them, and then finally they're both naked. He's staring at her and she glances down self-consciously.

"What?"

"Just savoring the moment," he tells her. "Come back to bed. Couch. Thing. Brain's not working."

"I'll take it as a compliment," she says, sliding onto the cushions next to him. He rewards her with a kiss, a proper kiss. Kissing him, she forgets everything except the yielding pressure of his lips and the insistence of his tongue. She forgets everything outside the hot rush of her blood and the thud of her heart and the scent of his skin. She forgets about breathing until she's gasping and trembling in his arms. Desire pounds through her, overwhelming everything else. She lines her body up with his, both of them on their sides, and grinds her hips against his. He reaches down to touch her and she moans, dizzy with wanting him. He slides his fingers between her folds. She feels as if she's been wet half the day, dreaming of this moment. He grazes her clit with his thumb and her body jolts. She nearly bites his lip. 

"Jesus," he mutters. "You're so...god, just the feel of you. I'm glad I'm already lying down."

She chuckles. "You too?"

"The room's gone all spinny," he says. "Ah, fuck me."

"Delighted to," she tells him, hooking her knee over his hip. He eases into her and she sighs in satisfaction. 

"Let's take it slow," he says in that raspy low voice that sizzles through her. 

"I'm not sure I can bear it," she tells him.

"Have a little faith," he says, kissing her softly. He sucks gently at her bottom lip and she yields to him. 

"Slow and steady," she commands, and he complies. She kisses him this time, as easy and sweet as if they've just woken up after a nice lie-in, as if they wake up together every morning, as if they have all the time in the world. Their hips move in gentle syncopation. It's perfect: she can feel _everything_. One of Matt's hands cups her face and the other strokes the length of her body from shoulder to thigh. He moves in her like a dream. 

"I wish this could be always," he breathes. 

"One day," she promises, because she'd promise him anything right now, and because it's what she wants more than almost anything in the world. 

It's perfect. Every single thing about it is perfect. Her body tingles all over and every noise he makes sends sparks through her. He touches her everywhere she wants to be touched as if he's reading her mind. When she comes, he groans into her mouth as if her pleasure is the greatest thing he could experience. 

"I don't know if I mentioned," he says when he has breath to speak again, "but I missed you a bit."

"I'm glad to see you too, honey," she tells him, tucked into the slightly sweaty curve of his body. She feels so warm and content. 

"It's funny," he muses. She can feel the rumble of his voice in his chest. "I didn't honestly think this would work, no matter how much I wanted it to - not because of you, never because of you." He cups her face in his hands as she flinches. "Hey, Alex, never because of you. But because of the distance and the time and all. I thought it would be too difficult. But we do all right, don't we? We get by."

"We do just fine," she reassures him. "Although it isn't as if more of you would make me want you less."

"It's brilliant," he says. 

"Yes, it is," she agrees. "Now. I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

\+ + + + 

They sit on the sofa in dressing gowns, tucking into their Thai food. Alex glances at her phone. "The episode's almost on."

"I suppose we ought to watch it," Matt says. "Just in case it's the last time we get to be the Doctor and River together. Have they asked you back yet?" 

"Not yet," Alex says. "I think there are possibilities, but nothing's ever certain, is it."

"Not on that show," Matt says wryly. "We should watch. Best to be informed when we're mobbed, eh."

"I hate watching myself," Alex tells him, picking at her curry. 

"Me too," Matt says. "It's so awkward. The things my face does! Why doesn't anyone ever warn me?"

"I appreciate the things your face does," Alex tells him, and he leans over and gives her a kiss. It's one of those little glancing kisses, the kind that leave her wanting ever so many more.

"Tell you what," he suggests. "I'll watch you, and you can watch me. How about that?"

"Deal," Alex says.

They watch and eat, tossing comments back and forth for a bit, but then half-hypnotized, drawn into the story. 

"It really is a good show," Alex says thoughtfully during the commercial. 

"Except for that bumbling idiot in the middle of all the shots," Matt says.

"I'll have you know I happen to love that bumbling idiot," Alex tells him haughtily. "So you had better be kind to him."

He puts his arm around her and squeezes her shoulders. She snuggles into his side. It's interesting watching the show. It was so strange filming scenes with him ignoring her, but it looks as if he did an excellent job. She remembers straining toward him with every line, utterly aware of his presence, and wonders if he felt the same. She knows the kiss is coming. She remembers it well: the bliss of kissing him in front of people, the difficulty of drawing back rather than sliding her hands under his jacket. But it's different watching it. It's extremely different. She watches him on screen, leaning in toward her as if he can't wait another second to kiss her, as if ignoring her was killing him. And the kiss itself, _well_.

Matt stirs beside her. He reaches for the remote and pauses the telly. "Er."

"Ah," Alex says. She's turned on all over again, as if she's been watching something incredibly erotic and intimate. She can feel her pulse between her thighs. Matt seems similarly affected. "That's a hell of a stage kiss." 

"Do you think the other kiss was that bad?" Matt asks. "And by bad, I of course mean ridiculously, mind-blowingly arousing?"

"Which other kiss?" Alex asks, not quite capable of forming actual thoughts. 

"On the pyramid, remember?" Matt says. "The wedding. 'I'll make it a good one'."

"Oh, that one," she says. "Not the one in the Stormcage?"

"That too," he murmurs. "Very fond memories of that. But the wedding, that was something else. That practically began it all."

"We should watch it," she decides. "Just to make sure."

Matt reaches for his laptop and situates it on his knees. He searches and comes up with a YouTube video from the Confidential. They watch it together, Alex cringing again at her interview.

"If only I'd known," she mutters. "And what was my hair doing."

"I think it's adorable," he reassures her. "Practically foreshadowing."

They both stop talking when the footage comes up of the kiss. She watches their eyes close in sweet breathless anticipation. She watches his hand come up to touch her face as if she's some precious thing. She watches her hands rise to his shoulders and his arm slide around her, holding her closer. She watches the delight in their faces. 

"That one's almost worse," Alex says after. "And by worse, I mean better, despite the awful music they stuck on. Of course, that was really three different kisses, because we did at least that many takes. Perhaps we should watch tonight's again, just to compare."

Matt rewinds the television a bit and they watch it again, and then once more for good measure. And then the wedding kiss. It's very, very strange, but she can't look away.

"I can't believe the papers don't write more about us," Matt says. "That's, phwoar, that's something else. I'm a little surprised we even heard them say cut." 

The second take comes up and again they fall silent, mesmerized. 

"I really am a lucky boy," he says.

"Yes," she says. "And you look _exceptionally_ handsome when you're kissing me."

"Do I?" he asks softly. He leans closer. "That's good to know." 

She kisses him lingeringly. "How on earth does everyone not know?"

"That is a very good question," he tells her. "Because as weird as it was to watch myself kissing you, it was _very_ inspiring. I think I would have quite a lot to say about it, if I weren't me. Also, we look quite practiced. I doubt anybody kisses quite like that without a bit of work behind the scenes, as it were."

"No wonder Kaz suspected," Alex says.

"Do you think this is how porn actors feel?" he asks.

"What, utterly and hopelessly in love with their co-stars?" Alex asks wryly.

"Obviously that," he says, smiling at her. "I meant the other effects. Don't tell me you're not feeling it."

"I am," she admits. "It's very strange. Unexpected. Not because it's you, but because it's me, and I knew what it was like before I saw it."

"It felt like that when I was there," he muses, "but I didn't think watching it would have the same appeal. But it looks like it felt."

"We could get a mirror for your bedroom," she suggests.

"We could," he says. "And then we could spend considerably more time in my bedroom. What do you say to that?"

"I say yes," she says, leaning into the word.

"Let's start now," he suggests. 

She stands up and offers him her hand, leading him down the hall. They're barely through the door before he's sweeping the hair from the back of her neck so that he can kiss the spot on the top of her shoulder that makes her shiver. She stands as still as she can, though she can't help swaying a little with the force of how much she wants him. Desire washes through her like a wave. He gently slides her dressing gown down and drops kisses across her bare shoulders. She starts to turn, but he holds her gently.

"Not yet," he says. "Not until you absolutely can't stand it any longer."

She can't help a little involuntary moan at that, but she braces herself. It seems to take ten years for him to ease the dressing gown all the way down her back; her skin is dappled with the cooling marks of his lips. He kisses his way down over her hips and down the backs of her thighs, all the way to her ankles. He kneels and starts back up her shins, brushing his face against her calves. She breaks when he gets to mid-thigh.

"Please," she says. "Come to bed."

"I thought you'd never ask," he murmurs.

She sits on the edge of the bed and tugs him to stand between her knees. He braces his hands on the bed on either side of her, bending to kiss her. She leans back onto her elbows, pushing up against him. Briefly she wonders what this would look like on television, the two of them _in flagrante delicto_ and so wrapped up in each other that nothing else matters, but she likes it this way, keeping this moment all to themselves. 

Their lips push and pull: light kisses, searching kisses, searing kisses. His lips brush her cheek and her neck and her collarbones. She kneads the muscles in his back and shoulders. His hands caress her breasts as she strokes the lean plane of his stomach. Her fingers stray lower and she grasps his cock lightly. He makes a pleased sort of humming noise. 

"I can't stand it any longer," she whispers. 

"Nor me," he whispers back. 

He kisses her as she rolls onto her back and guides him in. He settles perfectly between her thighs, waiting until she nods. 

She loves having him on top. It wouldn't be the same if he weren't so considerate, or if the bed weren't so plush, but as it is, she adores it. He looks right into her eyes as he moves in her, and she feels she can read every thought there. She feels utterly cherished and utterly loved. One of her hands strokes his face and the other cups his ass under the duvet. Their bodies touch everywhere. Her legs are tangled in his; his hips press just right against hers. She is cradled in the bed and in his arms and everything is perfect. 

It's clear that he's close to the edge, but then, so is she: the lingering effects of their earlier lovemaking and the embraces they watched worked their magic. She answers his thrusts with the pressure of her hips. He bites his lip, fighting for control of his body. 

"I'm not sure I can hold out," he gasps. "Will you touch yourself? I want you to come. Please come for me."

"Yes," she says, "oh, yes." She slides her hand into the sliver of space he can bear to create between their bodies. Her fingertips find her clit, stroking in tiny circles. He thrusts carefully so that he doesn't crush her hand between their hips. Pleasure builds in her, faster and faster, so achingly sweet that it sears her to the bone. 

"Matt," she gasps. "Oh, Matt, oh."

"Please," he says again, and that's enough to send her over, the feel of him and the devotion in his eyes. She writhes under him, holding him close with one arm, urging him to continue. He keeps up the rhythm, hardly faltering. She can feel him tensing against her, so close she can nearly taste it. She can't help touching herself again, and all the fragments of pleasure floating through her body begin to coalesce into one glowing spot of heat. She goads him with her body and he thrusts harder, pressing a little too hard against her fingers now, but she doesn't mind. It feels good, that tiny bit of pain to intensify the ecstasy even more. He's gasping and they're both sweaty and she loves him, she loves him. 

"Alex," he says, looking into her eyes as best he can, and then his body shakes and his hips buck. He half-collapses onto her and the weight of him against her is enough to make her come again, the shock of it smaller this time but no less powerful. She clings to him as he eases off to the side. The cool air against her heated skin almost has her wanting him all over again; her clit stings deliciously. They hold each other, sprawled together. 

"That would have looked amazing in a mirror," she teases him.

He blows his forelock out of his eyes. "You think?"

"I know," she says. 

"Well, at least we know it'll look good if we ever make a sex tape," he jokes. 

"Ha," she tells him, pretending she's not thinking about it. They are apart an awful lot of the time. It's possible that the clips of their various on-screen embraces will ease the ache of it a bit, but it might make it even more difficult. Perhaps after a while the kisses will lose their power over her and she'll want more. Too dangerous a thing to really think about, probably, but it might have been something to keep her company on the all-too-many days they're not sharing a bed. She burrows in closer to him and he kisses her forehead.

"This is enough," he murmurs, his eyes closed. "I'll always wish for more, but I can survive on this. I didn't think I could, but any time I get with you is always and never enough."

"I know," she says. "Maybe one day we'll find a way."

"It isn't like American television," he says drowsily. "We don't just do one thing for millions of years and stay in the same place for ages. Especially you, working here, working in L.A. But every tomorrow I get is worth it."

"You have all the tomorrows you want," she promises.

"Alex," he says, and she loves the way his voice caresses her name. He opens his eyes, peering through his forelock. "Are you happy?"

"Delighted, my love," she says. "Rapturous. And that isn't just the afterglow talking either."

"Good," he says, relaxing again. "I want you to be happy. I feel selfish, asking for so much of you."

"I'd give you everything if I could," she tells him. "And ask everything in return if it were possible."

"I'd give it gladly," he tells her. Her heart skips a beat. 

"I don't know what I did to deserve you," she whispers. "But I'm glad."

"Probably you were terribly wicked in another life," he mumbles, and she chuckles. 

"Go to sleep, my love."

"And you'll be here in the morning?" he manages to ask. 

"Right here," she promises.

He falls asleep with a smile, and as she drifts off herself, she knows she's smiling too.


End file.
